


Look into your eyes and the, sky's the limit

by sugarsweetie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ballet, Crushes, First Love, First Time, I Tried, I dont know much about ballet so i hope its not hideously inaccurate..., Light Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pining, Pole Dancing, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Students, also, coffee shop AU, everyone is in this like everyone, now tagged mature cos it's gonna get more saucy later on probs, the lightest, the title is from hamilton because viktor is helpless in the face of yuuris sexy pole charms, this fic was meant to just be a short coffee shop au and then it spiralled out of my control, viktor is in his last year at the royal ballet school and yuuri is a second year vet student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarsweetie/pseuds/sugarsweetie
Summary: Viktor didn't believe in love at first sight until he saw Yuuri Katsuki and immidiately had his world view changed. Falling in love with someone so eager to protect their heart is an undertaking he had never thought himself up to - but somehow, when it's Yuuri, every piece of effort is worth it.Viktor is a would be principal ballerina in his last year studying at the Royal Ballet School in London, and he meets Yuuri Katsuki, a part time barista and veterinary student, one rushed morning and proceeds to fall for him. And then its a process of him convincing Yuuri to love him back, all the while chasing his dream, juggling friendships and coping with the fast paced life of a student in their final year.AKA the ensemble rom com university coffee shop au nobody asked for!Hopefully better than it sounds!





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> So hi! This is my first ever fic that I've uploaded haha, only Yuri on Ice managed to get me passionate enough to not only think of an idea but plan a story all the way through and actually write some of it! It's probably messy and terrible but I hope you like it because I'm kind of in love with it, and with this entire university and all of the characters in it and I just want people to die over this anime the way I do!!!

Viktor had never believed in things like love at first sight. For a while, a long while, when asked he might suggest he didn’t believe in love at all. For him, life was ballet. He knew what it was to feel passion, to feel excitement and exultation unlike anything else when faced with that one certain thing – but for him it wasn’t any other person. It was the dance. Something about the elegance of it, the refined power and majesty, spoke to him, in words clearer than any language. Be it Russian or English he couldn’t imagine phrases having the ability to express emotion better than his beloved dance. So for years on end, from the moment he did his first plie, his first arabesque, he poured his soul and his heart and every fiery ember of his being into being better. Into being the best. When he earned his scholarship place at one of the most prestigious dance academies in England he leapt at the chance. While there were many schools in Russia, he liked the idea of leaving behind the regularity and rigidity of what he knew and learnt in Russia and going further, going beyond, to become an ever-better ballerina. And some said The Royal Ballet was the best. 

He had gone there when he was just becoming an adult and he had never looked back. Well that wasn’t true, he did return to Russia to visit during many of the holidays – but he was certain London would be his home for good now. He had fallen in love with the city, with its accents and its people and how everyone he met in the centre seemed uniquely driven; like no one could be in London without a certain ability to fight for the position that filled. The pace at the school was punishing – the best young dancers in the world weren’t gathered together to learn to be anything less than history makers. Viktor lived and breathed ballet, and it wasn’t something he would have ever wanted to change. 

And then his entire world view was changed. 

The sound of his third alarm clock overlaying with the two that had already been going off, for what was clearly quite a while, was what finally woke him up. It woke him up with all the kind gentleness of a bucket of ice cold water poured onto his naked body and he jolted upright, battling against blankets and duvet alike to regain some sense of bearing. Awareness filled him all too quickly as he cast a look out of sleep swollen eyes to the red numbers glaring judgementally back at him. 8:00am. He had set this alarm as a reminder of when he should be leaving – for the appointment he had in 20 minutes with his personal tutor, a man famous for cancelling meetings that people arrived to late. With a flurry of Russian swears Viktor leapt out of bed, even as he moved accepting that having a shower was out of the window. And so was breakfast. And perhaps brushing his teeth. In the time it took him to pull on jeans and a top he was accepting that he didn’t have the time to wear socks or brush his long silver hair or moisturise or, frankly, any of the things that were the reason he liked to give himself ample time to get ready in the morning. 

His eyes were still puffy with sleep and there was some drool crusty at the edge of his mouth when he stumbled out of the front door, thankful that he never unpacked his bag, and began to flat out run. He knew he had to get coffee before he would be any semblance of a real person, but his usual haunt was out of the way. Way, way out of the way. So, as he ran down the crowded London streets, he decided he would dash into the first place he saw that might serve some kind of coffee. Any kind.

And it was this that lead him to be stood before the most enchanting man he had ever seen.

He ran in through the doors of the tiny coffee shop at full speed, barely registering the lack of queue well enough to be thankful for it, going so fast he had to stop himself smashing into the counter by slamming his hands onto it and rising onto his tip toes. The man behind the counter startled visibly, hands fumbling with the cup in his hand before he turned slowly to face Viktor.

He still didn’t believe in love at first sight then, though an older Viktor, a more romantic him, can barely go a sentence without describing how he fell in love in a second, not because he was looking at your average Greek god, not at all, but because he looked deep into the warmest, kindest chocolate eyes he had ever had the pleasure of encountering. His heart, previously racing from the brutal pace he had been running at, seemed to shudder to a stop, entirely still for a beat before it continued racing, perhaps even faster now than when he had been running. How could it not be, when he was stood in front of someone so soft and beautiful, who was looking at him with wide eyes and a slightly parted pair of plush lips. 

“…Sir? Did you want to order?” He heard, the words finally breaking through the stunned haze he was in. He realised he was staring. If he had been a less bold man Viktor might have blushed, but as it was Viktor Nikiforov was a big believer in not being ashamed of things that you don’t regret. And he didn’t for a second regret allowing his eyes to drink in the sight before him. The soft round cheeks, pinked slightly as though he behind the counter was the embarrassing one here. The long black lashes framing big almond shaped eyes, the full pink lips – the pinker tongue that appeared to wet them. Viktor followed the movement with his eyes. “Sir?” the man asked again, and Viktor’s gaze snapped up to meet his. 

“Sorry.” Viktor was impressed with himself for managing to actually speak English at a time like this, when in his head, it seemed only a flurry of all the floweriest Russian endearments he knew were tumbling about. “Sorry I… I’d just like a triple shot of expresso please. To go. If you could.” His brain was blinkering too fast for him to be the eloquent self he usually knew he could be. 

The barista nodded, soft black hair a halo around his head and falling slightly into his eyes as he asked, “Could I have your name?” his voice as soft and gentle as ever. His cheeks were still pink, and he was looking very focused on the cup he held in his hands, as though he couldn’t meet Viktor’s eyes. 

‘you can have anything’ he thought, desperate to have those eyes meeting his once again. He couldn’t help the heaviness of his gaze, in his eagerness to drink in the man before him to the best of his ability while he had the opportunity. “It’s Viktor.” Is all he said eventually, after a pause that was probably slightly too long. 

As the barista turned away to begin making his drink order Viktor continued to look at him. He seemed young, probably a similar age to Viktor if anything, with his bright gaze and soft face. He wasn’t overweight but he had a certain softness to him, something Viktor admired as he looked at his wide hips and full cheeks where his ass was displayed to perfection in tight blue jeans. While Viktor’s art might encourage a 0% body fat index he always admired the curves of others. 

The man currently pressing buttons at the coffee machine, just a counter away, had captured Viktor’s interests more immediately than anybody had in a very long while. He couldn’t have pinpointed exactly what it was that had him so intrigued but he was – and with that in mind he finally felt more himself and decided he was capable of turning on the charm despite the rocky start in self-presentation. 

As they went through the process of Viktor paying for his drink and waited for the machine to read his card he asked, “So are you one of those baristas that spells peoples names wrong on purpose?” Viktor asked, letting his voice go flirty and deep as he knew people loved, “Or is that just a Starbucks thing?” 

The man didn’t respond initially, only the way he stopped moving giving away the fact that he was listening. Viktor simply waited. He was certain that the man was the type that was too polite to ignore him. After a long moment of waiting patiently, with only the hissing of the coffee maker punctuating the silence, he responded with, “I try my best to spell things right. Sometimes I just don’t ask someone’s name, especially if it’s not busy…” 

Viktor looked around the shop. The only other people in the small room were a young man working on a laptop in a corner and another boy wearing the uniform apron wiping a table not too far away. “In that case I assume I’m just very special.” He purred, letting a wicked smirk light up his face. He revelled in the way the baristas cheeked darkened further, and he became stammering and blinking rapidly. 

“No! I mean – it’s not that you’re – not, that, but, I didn’t – mean it like – It’s not…” He let himself fall back into silence, looking firmly at the ground with his cheeks positively radiating heat at this point. He was adorable. 

“I’m only joking! Please, calm down, I know you didn’t mean anything by it!” he laughed, wanting the other man to relax again. It was moderately effective – his cheeks remained pink but his lips pursed and he looked more amused than traumatised. 

Shaking his head the barista handed Viktor the small cup with his coffee inside and said, “Would you like anything else?” 

Before he could say any of the flirty sentences that immediately popped into his head he looked up at the clock behind the counter – 8:14am. With a loud curse he grabbed his cup and turned to run out of the door, managing to garble a quick no, thank you, over his shoulder as he burst out of the glass doors. 

In the six minutes of flat out running he did as he made his way to the Royal Ballet School he managed to down the entire cup of coffee. He ran into Yakov’s office at 8:21am, panting desperately and sweating furiously. Jogging clearly wasn’t doing enough for him if he was winded like this after only 6 minutes of flat out running. Or maybe the fact that he had even managed to make it so far in six minutes spoke to his fitness. Either way, his eyes could barely focus on the older man’s disapproving gaze as he slid, fatigued, into the cosy chair facing the large wooden desk. 

“Please… Don’t… cancel the meeting… I made it… I… God.” He forced out between gulps of air that didn’t do enough to soothe his breathless lungs. 

Yakov stares at him in silence, brow furrowed angrily, for the entire period it takes for Viktor’s breath to return to normal. And then, with the shout that he passed off as his normal voice he gruffly expressed his willingness to have the meeting with Viktor. “Only because it’s your final year and its important! Lilia would have my neck if I didn’t make sure her future principal was well looked after.” 

Viktor turned on a charming grin, ignoring the way the man’s scowl only deepened, and thanked him for his time.

The meeting was much like any other beginning of the year meeting. They discussed what Viktor wanted from the school this year, and how he would approach it. They talked about whether he wanted to do any solo pieces or focus exclusively on duets. What he would do during the winter show, the spring showcase and the summer performances. They talked about how he did in his classes last term, and how he could do better (Viktor couldn’t believe Yakov managed to say so many points for someone that was the unspoken best of his class but the man went on about all the ways Viktor could improve until Viktor almost wondered if watching paint dry might be more fulfilling). 

And then the meeting changed slightly. “Where do you want to go Viktor? When you’re done with this place?”

The words made Viktor feel cold. ‘This place’ had been home to him for two years now – not that long a period maybe, but long enough that it was somewhere he felt safe. All his friends were from the ballet school. The rare ones that were not were people who had either passed through it and moved onto other things, such as his friend Chris who after a year had decided ballet wasn’t his everything the way it needed to be to dedicate a life to it, and begun a course in psychology, citing his experience as ‘years of working with people closer to a mental breakdown than most others’. Viktor knew what he wanted out of the future – to be a principal somewhere amazingly prestigious, and spend as many years as his body would hold up performing – and he knew how he would get it – by acquiring a contract with a ballet company and working his way up – but he didn’t, in his heart of hearts, feel ready to let go of the school he had come to love. He managed to get out the response he knew Yakov wanted to hear, about going to the best ballet company willing to take him on, and in his heart, he knew it was what he wanted.

But as he thought of those warm brown eyes and the warmth he had felt in his heart for the first time in a while he couldn’t help but wonder if that was all he wanted anymore.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lowkey angsty self reflection coupled with those wholesome friendship vibes!

Walking home in the dark, after the long day of practice that had followed his meeting with Yakov, Viktor felt heavy. It should be so easy. It should feel like the beginning of his new life, he should have been ready to embrace the future. But for some reason he wasn’t. He loved ballet, he knew that, could never deny that or doubt it – but for some reason, ‘some reason,’ unknown and undefined, he wasn’t looking forward to his future. From the moment he was starting to go somewhere with ballet joining a company and living the dance had been his dream, and now as he spiraled closer and closer to that dream, well… It felt more like going down the drain than just around the river bend. He wasn’t sure what it was – maybe it was that he was meant to be thinking about his future, and evolving into the dancer, the artist, that so many people expected him to be, but whenever he thought of his future he felt… stuck. It had been like this when he was applying for a ballet school after he had finally done enough of school to be able to pursue it full time. He had felt as though he couldn’t continue to grow at the ridiculous rates he loved to push himself to if he stayed in Russia. He had to know more, to learn more, to do more, and for that more to be something different and new. And so he had come to London, and he had applied himself more than all the people who knew him as self-centered and forgetful could have ever expected him to. And he had grown. At a rate that terrified and amazed in equal measure.

He had to keep growing.

He had to keep going.

But he wasn’t sure how to. It felt as though the straight forwardness of the path to his dreams was suddenly off putting, the ease of it making it somehow less than the paths less traveled. He wanted it – god he wanted it, to be a principal someday – but he didn’t want to reach that by doing the same old thing everyone else did. 

It was with that in mind that he began to work out what he would do for the winter showcase. It had to be something new, something unlike that which he was used to. He had to rediscover the difficulty of growing, and the pleasure that hard earned success brought him, by doing something totally new. Totally new, however, wasn’t as easy as simply wanting to do it. It required inspiration. Motivation. He had motivation in spades but this rut, not a rut by the usual standards as he wouldn’t let his ballet quality slip for anything, but for him, a rut in creativity and the desperate passion he was known for, this rut was one born on a lack of inspiration.

He was bored.

It felt childish somehow, to acknowledge that. To look within himself and find the dissatisfaction that came from complacency and sameness. But it was the honest truth, and he had to accept that in order to face it head on and get past it. He had to make himself less bored somehow, and even if he wasn’t entirely sure how to do that he was damn well ready to try.

He walked down the road, weaving through clumps of people stumbling outside of bars and pubs, smiling at the appreciative looks he got from men and women alike, and thought about it. The cold wind was bitterly biting, even this early in autumn, and his hands buried in his trench were still colder than he wanted them to be.

In his mind the soft, open face of the barista from that morning floated. He was still vaguely surprised at himself for strength of reaction, but he couldn’t deny his interest – and he didn’t want to. What he wanted was to know more about that tender gaze, and to understand that quiet voice. He wanted… he wanted all the things he had never given himself time for in his gruelling dedication to reach the top. He was only 20, going on 21, and he had never been in love. Sure he had had flings, romances, short affairs of the heart (or, more honestly, the body), but he had never really been in love. He had sex with people, made out with girls and boys at parties and on his bed, but he didn’t love them. For a while he had himself convinced that he would fall in love with someone if he dated them long enough. Alice had been funny and brash and wild and he had appreciated her wildly and respected her a huge deal, but he couldn’t imagine a world where she ranked anywhere near ballet in his heart. She hadn’t even come close to being on par with Makkachin. His first and last girlfriend had her heart broken by his inexplicable inability to love her and Viktor had wondered if something was wrong with him. Romeo had been romantic, sensual and charming, and every moment with him seemed like one out of a romance novel. To anyone that met him, he was a prince, an avenging angel, a hero – but somehow, he couldn’t capture Viktor’s heart. Saying goodbye to him had been sore because Viktor at the time had been convinced that he was as in love with him as he could be with anybody. But as Romeo had put it, “Anyone can know real love when it is present. That it can be doubted shows that it does not exist.” It had been sore, being broken up with time and again for not feeling enough. But Viktor never cried. Which might have been the problem. 

He wasn’t sure why these thoughts wouldn’t stay out of his head. It was early evening, his body was achingly sore all over from the punishing practice of the day, and he had a warm dog and a cosy bed to look forward to. At the end of a day like this his brain was usually comfortably slow, looking forward to his relaxing evening routine. He planned to slink into the house he shared with his friends, express that he was exhausted, and crawl into bed to watch some mindless tv show until he passed out. 

So why, today, was his mind racing? 

When he opened the door it became very clear that his plans for the night would not be as he had intended. 

The sight he was greeted with was one of huge tragedy and drama. On the couch, Georgi was bundled up in at least three different blankets, clutching a box of tissues and a tub of ice cream as he bawled into Chris’ shoulder pitifully. His eyes were red and puffy, streaming with tears, his nose drippy and running, his body trembling with the sobs that wracked it. With only the slightest moment of awkward hesitation, Viktor dropped his bag and walked over to pat his friend on the shoulder, in a manner he could only hope was soothing. 

“What happened Georgi? What’s the matter?” When his questions only lead to the sobbing intensifying he looked helplessly at Chris, where the man was murmuring gentle reassurances as he patted the sobbing blob beside him. The curly haired man simply had to mouth ‘dumped’ for Viktor to understand what was going on. 

Georgi, notorious romantic, master connoisseur of love in all of its depths and dimensions, had been dumped by the girl he was in love with most recently. Viktor could almost understand the misery the man must have felt. She had been beautiful, stunningly so – she had been a model, so it made sense. But for Georgi to be sobbing like this she had to have been so much more. “I’m so sorry Georgi. I -” he stopped himself from saying something along the lines of ‘I understand what you’re going through,’ since they all knew he didn’t and it probably wouldn’t help. “…I’m sorry.” He finished lamely, trying his best to imbue his pats with sympathy.

Viktor had never been the best at dealing with other people’s emotions. A couple of his exes had said it was because he was self-centred and selfish, Alice had claimed it was simply that he didn’t know how to care, that he had the emotional range of a teaspoon and simply didn’t understand how much other people felt. That summary had felt a little unfair to him. He had feelings, lots of them. He would say he knew what love was like. He loved ballet. He loved Makkachin. He loved his friends. But the kind of love that people spent their whole lives looking for… It was foreign to him. 

With a sigh he hoped Georgi wouldn’t see he lowered himself to the couch beside him and continued the patting. Chris noticed the sigh and raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘can’t you try and empathize somewhat?’ Viktor shrugged back jerkily, hoping it expressed succinctly that he was trying.

“Listen Georgi it’s her loss. You are a wonderful, passionate man and she was clearly fickle and fake if she would leave you for another man so easily. She didn’t deserve you, and she doesn’t deserve your tears.” Chris said all of this so earnestly, managing for all of his flaws to be a wonderful friend at a time like this. “Also, you were only dating her for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t the love of your life my dear.”

Georgi’s head whipped up faster than Viktor had expected and he jerked backwards slightly to avoid an ugly collision. Georgi’s eyes were shining with tears and the ice cream in his fist was crushed and dripping onto his lap. Viktor sighed. That was his blanket. “But it was!” The crying man wailed, voice achingly emotional, “She was! You don’t… I have never loved like this before. I thought I had felt love last time but her… She was… Perfection. She completed me. I’ll never meet anybody half as incredible Chris!” and with that his face crumpled and his sobbing started again, power renewed. 

“Come on Georgi. You can fall in love again easy – there’s so many wonderful girls out there that would jump at the chance to be with you!” Viktor wasn’t sure if what he said was helpful – he wasn’t sure that it was true – but he wanted his friend to stop sobbing so pitifully. “Meet someone new, isn’t that the best way to get over someone old?” 

Georgi shook his head vigorously at that. “No Viktor. I don’t want anyone else – I just want her back.” His voice was still small and wobbly and Viktor tried desperately to think of something to help. 

“Well… We can at least help you get your mind off her?” He suggested, speaking out almost before he had even finished the thought, “Maybe don’t fall directly back in love, I’m sure you could benefit from a break, but don’t shrivel in on yourself. That won’t make her want you any more will it?” In Viktor’s mind he was aware that Georgi was like him. Responsive to challenges. Maybe some people would have said it wasn’t the right time to push him but Viktor always believed in pushing people. So many people couldn’t reach their full potential without being pushed beyond what they thought were their own boundaries. People were so fond of making boundaries that didn’t exist, and limiting themselves for no real reason. “You don’t want her to see you like this? To know you’re sitting here crying with ice cream, ruined without her?”

“…No.” Georgi’s voice was still smaller than its usual booming state but it was more stable, a small ember of indignation drying up some of the wetness. “No I don’t want that.”

Chris was nodding now, finally understanding where Viktor was going with this, “No, you want to show her that you’re strong don’t you? She never appreciated that about you did she?” Suddenly Georgi was sitting up straight, his eyes still wet but focused and agreeing with what the two of them were saying. 

He nodded fiercely as he said, “No. She didn’t!” voice slowly gaining back some of its familiar boom. 

“Exactly! So what you should do is show her that you don’t need her! Show her that you were the one adding to her life, not the other way around! Show her that even without her you’re having so much fun, the time of your life.” Chris was the one that said it, and Viktor was grateful because he had more or less started speaking without any real idea of a game plan he could suggest for his friend. Chris had a sparkle in his eyes now. One that was recognizably ominous. Viktor realised too slowly what he had unleashed, and watched as the situation evolved at a rapid pace. 

“How would I do that?” Georgi was asking, eyes wide now with hope even as his brows were drawn together with his suddenly acquired self-righteous anger, “How do I show her that – That I don’t need her to be happy! How?” 

“We’ll throw a party!” said Chris with a huge Cheshire smile lighting up his features. 

“We will? Here?”

“Yes we will!” Chris stood up then, disentangling himself from the blanket pile and moving to sit on the coffee table and face the two remaining on the couch. He clapped his hands together, eyes sparkling as excitement filled him. Chris loved little as much as he loved a good party. “It’s a good idea you have to agree! You can take a million pictures with gorgeous people and post them all over Instagram and snapchat and – you still have her on all of them, right?”

“Yes. It’s unbearable… She’s so happy… even without me…” Georgi seemed to deflate slightly, eyes lowering and mouth tightening back up. 

Chris grabbed him by the cheeks as if to stop the progress of his face falling in its tracks. “No Georgi! Don’t get down again. Come on. We’ll throw a party and you can show off how well you’re doing and she’ll see you and want you even more than she did before! But she’ll have to live with the agony of not being able to have you! It’s a flawless idea darling!”

“Do you think it will work?”

“Of course it will. I know these things! You guys can bring all of your ballet friends and I will invite a huge host of other people because unlike you I have more than one social circle. It’ll be brilliant.” 

Chris got into the idea full steam then. Suddenly the three of them were arranging things, planning and organizing, which drinks and snacks would they buy, how would they invite people, would it be openly bring friends (Chris voted yes because they wanted to meet as many people as possible, Viktor voted no because he didn’t like the idea of the house becoming a mess of strangers, but in the end Georgi’s quiet yes won the vote) what day they would hold it on, and more and more details than Viktor really knew were in a party. He lay on the couch fiddling with his hair, plaiting and unplaiting it as his mind wandered from what the other two were saying. He only began to pay attention again when he heard his name.

“…Viktor as well!” Chris was saying, smirk on his face. 

“What about me?” Viktor asked, slightly uneasy with the look on his friends face.

“I was saying it would do you some good to branch out. Meet new people. When was the last time you were with someone darling?” Chris asked, eyebrow raising.

Viktor had to think about it. He thought about it for longer than he realised he would need to – it had been a while. “Well… I supposed I haven’t really had much spare time lately.” He said lamely. He really hadn’t thought about it for a good long period of time honestly. He was pretty much as fine as ever just focusing on ballet. He wrung his long hair in his hands to avoid the piercing look Chris was giving him.

“Viktor. You are gorgeous and young and strong and you should be having so much more fun than you are. I know ballet is your world but can you really say you’re happy with nothing else in your life?”

“I have lots of things in my life! I have ballet, and it is very much so enough thank you, but I have my friends and I have Makkachin. Of course I can be happy. I am. This is what happy looks like!” He was frowning down at the strands of hair he had tangled his fingers in. He hated when Chris did that – saw directly through him like he was transparent. It made him too aware of things, made him have to look deeper at himself. It was stressful. He hated how turbulent he felt just then. It was only the beginning of his final year and everything was weighing on his mind, stresses coming at him from every direction.

“Is it really.” Chris sounded sceptical, made no play at hiding it. “Just give it a shot Viktor. Try out something other than ballet for a second. Try out a cute boy, or a pretty girl, let someone into your heart before it freezes and shatters.” 

“Mmm.” Was all Viktor said to that, noncommittal and nonspecific. It was easy for Chris to say. He was studying a regular degree, not something that was brutally taxing almost every day of the week, and he was deeply in love with his boyfriend, and he had his cat, and everything seemed to be good for him. He didn’t understand how Viktor adored ballet. But he had done an uncomfortably good job of helping Viktor question himself. 

“Do it Viktor. Love is happiness unlike any other. You deserve to know! Even if sometimes it hurts… It’s worth it.” Georgi said earnestly, placing a heavy hand on Viktor’s shoulder. 

With the weight of both of his friends expectations Viktor nodded against his intentions, and mumbled, “I’ll… I’ll give it a shot. But I’m not making any promises. I probably won’t meet anyone worth my attention. Who could compete with ballet?” He said the last parts in a light tone, wanting for them to move the conversation on, and with a final squinty look at him Chris nodded and moved back to party planning. Viktor slid further down the sofa arm, almost lying flat on the couch. 

He thought once again of the man from the coffee shop. Maybe his friends weren’t wrong. Maybe he should give it a shot. Try and finally attend to that which he had been ignoring for years.

Maybe it was time for Viktor Nikiforov to fall in love.

He snorted even as the thought floated through his head. Unlikely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the first couple chapters have been really slow but it'll start hip happening soon :P

**Author's Note:**

> It's very unbeta read - honestly I barely managed to read through it after I wrote it because I didn't want to talk myself out of posting! So tell me if there are a bunch of mistakes haha.
> 
> My tumblr is http://gway138.tumblr.com/  
> it's... a mess. I'm only just getting back into tumblr after not really using it for ages so there might not be much on there haha. But talk to me about Yuri on Ice PLEASE! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :) Tell me what you think!


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